


Fight To Keep

by mockingjayne



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: One decision threatens to change everything, its effects rippling through the bunker. Takes place after Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.
Relationships: Wyatt Logan & Lucy Preston, Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Fight To Keep

“So where does that leave us?”

The words refuse to leave her, instead rattling around her chest, dislodging her heart, worming their way in, circulating through her bloodstream until they’re just as much her’s as they are his. Closing her eyes, tightly, the white flecks of vision linger, dancing on the edges of darkness, his face appearing in the shadows. That side smirk, revealing a dimple, the sad blue eyes that linger between hope and despair.

Her hands come to trace the gold dangling from her neck, the edges nearly worn from her touch, but whose comfort is still offered by just a mere squeeze. It seemed that was all she had at this point, memories of people she’d lost.

It’s only when she feels a treacherous tear slide down her face, she blearily opens her eyes, the image from before dissipating from her vision, blaming the moisture on having closed her eyes too tightly. Refusing to admit its cause was anything else.

She hears a door open, the metal echoing through the hall, alerting everyone of every movement that took place in that bunker. Arching her back she positions herself to see who was leaving, her head screaming in protest.

Lucy had felt lightheaded on and off ever since getting off the Lifeboat, and as she moved, the dizziness rolled her stomach, sending her flying off of the couch and headed straight for the bathroom.

Sweat covering her head, and a moan escaping her chapped lips as she expels her meager dinner back into the toilet. She doesn’t even realize she’s not alone until she can feel her hair being pulled back by a pair of hands. Another moan lets itself be heard, her head flopping onto her arm, not caring that the surface she was resting on was less than desirable.

The soft hand rubbing circles on her back, quietly lulls her into a peaceful state, the nausea having gone, retreating just as quickly as it had appeared.

“You okay?” The worried voice of Jiya makes its way to her under a layer of sleep threatening to take her.

“Hmm,” she hums, halfway between a moan and an assurance that she was in fact okay.

“Rough trip?” The pilot suggests, but Lucy doesn’t have the strength to answer, just barely nods against her arm.

“Come on, you can have my bed,” she offers, not even thinking what that means for Rufus, as she slowly gets her up.

“I’m fine,” Lucy gets out, pushing the stray tendrils of dark hair from her face, grimacing as she swallows down the remnants of her sick. “Just umm, give me a minute,” she gestures to the sink with her toothbrush.

Lucy can see Jiya leaning against the doorframe, as she reaches for the toothpaste, her embarrassment over the situation surfacing.

She carries out her task in silence, refusing to make eye contact, but her friend never leaves, her brow knit together in worry.

“All done,” Lucy announces with a shrug, a close mouthed smile that didn’t quite count, before motioning with her hands for them both to get back to bed.

“I’m gonna say something, and I might be wrong, it’s just an…educated guess, if you will,” Jiya begins to ramble.

“I’m good on the couch, Jiya. You don’t have to wake Rufus,” she says with a knowing smile. The man while usually pretty friendly was not a fan of being woken up in the middle of the night.

“No, it’s not…,” Jiya says with a shake of her head, grabbing onto Lucy’s wrist, stopping them. “Could you be…I mean, you’re not pregnant, right?” The question coming out with nervous laugh at the suggestion.

Lucy face pales again, the feeling of Jiya’s hand on her arm the only thing anchoring her to the ground. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. But suddenly it was the only thing she could think about. Her mind racing through a timeline of possibilities, all of which landed her in Hollywood. The feel of his hands on her, trailing kisses across her body, and the smile he’d put on her face, refusing to leave until his wife had shown back up.

_His wife._

“No,” Lucy says, patting Jiya’s hand. A scoffed laugh accentuating the absurdity of her claim. “No, there’s no way…we…no,” she trails off, the uncertainty encroaching on her words, the worried look never leaving Jiya’s face.

“You sure, because I can ask Agent Christopher to get…”

“No, I’m sure,” Lucy quickly adds. “It was a rough ride back, and I haven’t had enough water…gotta get those umm, eight glasses in, and…yeah, no. I’m good,” she assures her friend, but even to her own ears, it sounds weak, unconvinced.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re…fine,” she says lowering her head, her eyes growing wide, like she was playing along for Lucy.

“Seriously, so…good,” Lucy motions back to the couch.

The sound of another door opening alerts them to the fact that they weren’t the only listening ears in that hallway.

“Y’all okay?” She hears from, a pair of blue eyes illuminating in the barely there light that lit their way.

Lucy’s eyes grow wide, as he glances back into the doorway, as if making sure he wouldn’t be caught. Her arms come to cross in front of her, a defense she didn’t even know she was putting up.

“We’re…good,” Jiya answers, echoing Lucy’s answer back to him, seeing that Lucy’s mind seems to be elsewhere. The bottom of her lip worried between her teeth, her arms pinching on the chain wrapped around her neck, a pained expression fighting its way from her face.

His eyes search her dark ones, as if looking for an answer to a question she’s not even sure he’s asking. She wants to answer, but she stands frozen, until Jiya’s hand is on her back, a pinched, awkward downcast look, guiding Lucy away.

They make it to Jiya’s door before she hears Wyatt’s close, quietly, not wanting to wake the other occupant of his room.

“I’m just gonna…” Lucy gestures towards where she’d sprinted from before. An uncomfortable couch calling her name, its worn cushions offering her a escape from prying eyes and questions.

“Right, right.”

It’s only then with a heavy sigh does she turn to head back to the makeshift living room.

Walking down the hallway, she glances back to find her friend having disappeared back into her room, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

Settling back on the couch with a glass of water, she finds her eyes wandering down to her flat stomach, the seed of doubt having been planted.

_I can’t be pregnant._

xxxxxx

Avoidance was quickly becoming a fine tuned habit she had acquired, spending most of her time sequestered in a bunker with no actual room, wandering through the halls, ducking when she saw anyone.

Jiya had attempted to approach her several times, but she’d shaken her head, silently pleading with her brown eyes to not bring up the subject. The woman reluctantly letting her denial fester.

Flynn had sent her several odd looks, and the one time she’d found herself at the bathroom sink with Jessica, she’d muttered something about the importance of flossing, busying her hands and mouth, before awkwardly flitting off, only to run smack into Wyatt.

“Whoa,” he said with an amused smile, his hands landing on her on arms, steadying her against his chest, as she quickly moved to step back.

“Sorry,” she says with an embarrassed laugh, refusing to meet his eyes. The flinch she exhibited towards him had his smile falling, and she couldn’t help but feel the plummet in her stomach at the idea of hurting him.

The loss of warmth immediately felt as he removed his hands from her. Her arms finding themselves wrapping around herself as if to contain the heat.

“You okay?” He asks, the worried line across his forehead making its appearance, and she can’t help the quirked grin that spreads on her lips. She knows he’s not just referring to their collision. Her odd behavior something that everyone had noticed.

“Yeah, fine,” she grits through her teeth, having said that word so many times over the last few days that the sound began to taste bitter even to her own tongue.

“Lucy,” he nearly whispers in a rough voice, stepping closer to her, as if guarding a secret he’s not yet aware of. “Just because…I mean, we’re friends,” he amends, and she knows her face falls at the word.

_Friends._

“I know,” she says with a sigh, the truth painfully stinging with a label that once would’ve have been enough, but now seemed a path she never thought they’d be on.

“You can talk to me,” he nearly begs, the want of a connection like before so earnest in his tone, it lingers between them, teasing them both with something they can’t have.

Her eyes flutter closed, the sound of flurried but genuine promises whispered in her ear, his hand lacing with her own, as he moves inside her. Their future unclear, precarious at best, a moment of reprieve, building tension that had been flickering around them for months, released between them.

“Lucy?” Her eyes open to find those same blue eyes that had stared down at her, never leaving in their search for more. But she wasn’t his to search anymore, maybe she never was. Their time together so fleeting, yet yearning to be more. The guise of love hiding under obligation on the verge of shattering truth to all involved.

“I…can’t,” she says before side stepping him and quickly walking off.

Because for as skilled as she believed herself to be in avoiding others, the one person she couldn’t avoid was herself.

Her thoughts spun a tangled web of doubt mixed with a terror so real she couldn’t expel the shiver that tore over her whenever she let herself think about what it could mean if she were pregnant.

She’d always imagined herself having kids. One day. But it had always been a distant, far off image, as most have, the inkling of what their future could be. Hypothetical plans of reading children’s history books to a child whose face she could never quite picture, with a father she didn’t know. But the longer she found herself lost in these daydreams, the clearer that image became. Suddenly it wasn’t just a faceless child, but one with big blue eyes, whose dark hair tangled in her fingers, as she gently soothed them to sleep, Wyatt smiling down at them.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

Lucy jumps, finding Agent Christopher approaching her spot on the couch.

“No, no,” she says, quickly moving to make room for the woman to sit next to her. “I was just…thinking,” she admits with a sheepish grimace.

Denise nods, a quiet knowing look passing as she glances at Lucy, who fiddles with her necklace, letting her hair shield her face.

“I had that same look when I found out I was going to be a mom,” she admits with a soft smile at the skittish woman next to her.

“Oh,” Lucy nervously laughs. “No, I’m not…wait, did Jiya say something? I told her…it’s nothing. I was just…” she rambles, Denise placing a hand on her wildly gesturing fingers, caching her attention, her mouth closing briefly, only to peek open, her eyes brimming with tears.

She can feel the squeeze of her hand, and she finds herself accepting the comfort. This woman, the closest she has to a mother figure, offering her what she’d been long since searching for since the day she’d come home to a different timeline, Rittenhouse lies splintering her family tree.

“It’s better to know,” she hears, a box passed her way, the bright letters refusing to be ignored, and a shudder passes through her at the idea of her fate resting in the confines of a package so small.

Lucy looks up, acquiescing in the decision, as she grips the box with shaky hands. Unable to avoid any longer.

“You’ll be okay.”

A silent, teary nod exchanged.

xxxxxxx

Piling half of her hair atop her head, she stares at herself in the mirror, twisting side to side, the noise of an opening door causing her to jump. Quickly she pulls a sweater over her head and exits.

Dragging her feet in her slippers, the scuffing sound bordering on annoying, until she’s grabbed roughly by her arm, a gasp emitted as she’s hauled into Flynn’s room.

“You’re hurting me,” she states, his grip loosening, and she rubs at the tender ache on her thin arm.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He baits, and she straightens to full height, barely reaching his chest. Not the least bit intimidated.

“No,” she says, turning to leave.

“I know your secret,” he calls after her, causing her to pause, a deep sigh escaping her, before reluctantly turning back around.

“What secret?” She tries, crossing her arms, a raised eyebrow shot at him.

“The one in your journal. The one you’re hiding right now,” he says, taking a step towards her, her eyes narrowing.

“Nice try,” she shoots back, but shuffles on her feet.

“You can’t hide it forever,” he all but teases.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she says, pulling on the bottom of her sweater. shaking her head in unconscious disbelief at the nerve of having her own life taunted in front of her, not even privy to the details of her future. “But if…I was…I mean,” her eyes beginning to water, quickly closing them to ward off a display of emotion she didn’t want to deal with right now.

“Might not want to tempt fate with her,” he says, and her watery brown eyes grow at his admission. “Oh, I’ve said too much,” he says with a jerk of his head, walking past her back out into the hallway, leaving her with a stunned expression of relief and shock.

_Her. Her._

Wandering into the kitchen in a daze, her hands flexing and curling into fists, the nerves needing an outlet. Distracted by Rufus declaring that he was going die, an awkward glance exchanged as her and Wyatt both answered with the Alamo, one of their more memorable interactions, the threat of death just one example of the danger lurking around every corner. The alarm of a mission ringing throughout her, a panic overtaking her, as she follows suit to find out where she was going.

The concerned look and volunteer of Jiya isn’t lost on her, as she enters the Lifeboat. Lucy always found herself stepping into this claustrophobic death box a tempt of fate with her life, but now it wasn’t just her own life that she was bargaining time with.

_Her._

As she sits in her seat, her gaze lost, as her brain circles through a million different scenarios, the warning continuing to blare in her ears. It’s only when she feels a pair of hands moving across her that she focuses, eyes meeting a grinning Wyatt as he straps her in. His fingertips whisper across her abdomen as he makes sure that she’s secure, safe, Unaware that it wasn’t just her whose safety he was protecting.

She can’t see the blue, only a flutter of the dark lashes as they concentrate, and there’s a quiver to her lips, as she pictures this same man working so diligently to strap in an infant to a carseat. Not wanting to take any chances that something could happen. The same gentle care he used on her, reserved for someone even more in need.

_Her._

“All set,” he says, glancing up at her, and she shakily nods at him, his hand lingering ever so slightly, before backing into his own seat.

All set, she thinks with a heavy, nervous sigh.

xxxxxx

Lucy’s hip juts into the counter, not quite enough pressure to leave a bruise, but enough to keep her grounded to the moment. Her fingers wrap around her locket, a far off look settling in her eyes, just as her bread pops up from the toaster. She jumps at the sudden movement, grabbing for the bread, only to grimace and nearly toss the toast up into the air as it burns the tips of her fingers.

“Shit,” she mutters to herself, and then, mentally curses herself for saying that out loud.

_Her._

“Sorry,” she whispers, as she grabs for the peanut butter from the shelf. She hadn’t been able to keep down much these days, but for some reason peanut butter always sounded appetizing to her.

Licking her fingers from the excess she turns to sit, only to find Rufus staring at her with a goofy grin.

She startles, nearly dropping her breakfast.

“Oh my…make a noise next time,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a grin, pulling out her chair and settling into it.

She’s a bite into her meal when she finds his eyes are still on her, that stupid smile still plastered to his face.

“Can I help you?” She says with a hint of a tease on her lips.

“How’s it going?” He asks with a lilt on the last word, as if he knew something she didn’t.

Lucy awkwardly adjusts in her chair, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“What’s up, Rufus?” He gestures with his chin at her, his eyes glancing down at her sweater.

Quickly looking around the room to make sure no one else was there, she narrows her eyes at him.

“You know?” She hisses, leaning across the table at him.

“Jiya told me,” he says with way too much enthusiasm. “So it’s true, you’re pregnant?”

“Rufus, you…you can’t tell anyone,” Lucy begs, her hands reaching out for the man that moved to sit next to her.

“You haven’t told him yet?” He asks, eyes wide and resolved in worry.

“Told who, what?” Wyatt asks, strolling into the kitchen. Lucy’s mouth shuts, as she shoots Rufus a look, and he casts his eyes down.

“Nothing, man,” Rufus tries to cover, making a stressed face at Lucy, her hand coming to her forehead, knowing that he was not a great liar. It was only a matter of time before this came out.

“Peanut butter, again?” He asks with a laugh, as he notices her breakfast.

“It’s good,” she argues, smirking, causing a full blown smile to appear on his face.

“Good…or the only thing you can make?” He teases, and she opens her mouth to speak…nothing coming out.

“I umm…I can…make…stuff,” she tries, her lips puckering, brows knit, and a shake of her head at the preposterous, but all too true claim.

“Okay,” he says with a nod, not believing a word she says, sitting next to her with his coffee.

She can feel the nerves radiating off of Rufus, as he stares at the two of them, and she wonders how long before he either blurts her secret out or stumbles out of the room with an excuse.

“You okay there?” Wyatt asks, glancing at his unusually quiet friend.

Lucy sits between the two men, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow her. It had been a week since their last mission. She’s found herself coming back from having convinced Agent Christopher to change the course of her life, the thought of the team never meeting otherwise. The thought of how different her life would be if she had never met Wyatt. The act of presenting Denise with her children, begging for their existence to happen, hit a little too close to home, as she found herself essentially pleading for the same thing.

So many times during the week, she’d found herself alone with Wyatt, her mouth open and poised to tell him the truth about…her. But then Jessica would walk into the room or he’d say something that quickly reminded her of what their relationship was now. The circumstances just weren’t ideal, and the opportunity just always seemed to pass her by. He was happy, he was trying to make it work, and she had never wanted to get in the middle. But then there was her. And suddenly it wasn’t just Lucy caught in the middle. The tangled web of obligation and love becoming even more intricate, a delicate balance that she knew she had to upset, and was too scared to do so.

She hadn’t even realized that her hand had wandered to her stomach at the thought until she felt Rufus nudge her.

“Lucy, can I talk to you?” Wyatt asks, and she quickly glances back at Rufus with help written all over face.

“Umm, sure,” she follows him to a corner of the room.

“What’s up?” Lucy asks, hoping she sounds way more relaxed than she feels.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing. You’ve been acting weird, “ he admits.

She avoids his eyes, shuffling on her feet, pulling her hair to one side, to where it falls in a messy cascade against her face.

“I don’t…know what you’re talking about,” she tries, but he’s not having it, and steps closer to her. She can feel the heat of strife slowly suffocate her. She catches the flinch in his hand, battling with himself on whether to reach out and grab onto her. And while she wants nothing more than drown in those blue eyes of his, she knows she can’t.

“I know things are awkward…between us,” he clarifies, stating the obvious. “But Lucy, I’m…here. If you need to talk or…whatever. I’m here,” his says in rough whisper, the strain in his words evident in his stance.

She can feel the confession spilling up from her stomach, clawing its way to the tip of her tongue, but her lips refuse to articulate the words she knows she needs to say. Her insecurities rearing their ugly head, the validation she’d constantly been seeking from her mother, deflecting her own accomplishments, never seeing herself the way others saw her. Instead attaching labels to herself, tucking her personality in a box she very rarely left…until she met Wyatt. Staring up at him, the worried crease in his brow, she knows that while she was the educator, he was the one constantly teaching her, pushing her, to not only better herself, but to recognize her own strength.

“I’m…” she feels the words spilling from her, and he leans forward, his hand reaching out to touch the locket around her neck, as if acknowledging the existence of those that were tucked away deep inside her.

“Yeah?” He says, a breath away from her.

“Uhh, guys, Christopher and Mason want to talk to us,” Rufus says, sneaking up behind them, interrupting them from their moment, Lucy quickly stepping back, breaking the tension they’d seemed to gather around them, quickly making her way back to the kitchen, leaving a confused Wyatt and Rufus to stand in the hallway.

xxxxxx

“So you told Flynn?” He says with a glib attitude that suggests that for as many times as he acts like he doesn’t care, he does. She’s not sure if it’s jealousy or a need to protect her, still, from a man he doesn’t trust. A little bit of both, she decides.

“That Jessica was under suspicion? Yeah. It was a long ride to Port Royal,” she tries to reason, but the guilt eats at her. “I mean, he was gonna find out sooner or later, wasn’t he?” And she can’t help but feel as if she’s talking to herself, as well.

“Yeah, whatever.” There’s a bitterness there, the way that he snaps, but she knows it’s not at her, not really. He’s upset, and angry, and perhaps beating himself up for allowing something to get past him.

“Okay, fine,” she laments, slightly shrugging, unsure of how to resolve this. The one person she needs the most, she can’t have.

“We’re good,” and she can’t help but cringe at the sentiment, because they’re anything but good. She can feel the words rising again, the ones threatening to break the silence and change everything. They’re bubbling inside her, as she moves to push them down.

“Great,” she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s appeasing, but not genuine, and it frustrates the hell out of him.

He gives a sardonic laugh, attempting to pass by her, but she can’t let him go.

She finds her arms around him before she can stop herself. A momentary truce to a fight she never remembered signing up for. There’s no hesitancy as he wraps his arms around her, bringing her closer, her body molding to fit the form of his own. Her nose buries in his shoulder, his slight stubble rubbing against her cheek, tiny pricks letting her know he was there. Eyes fluttering shut, she breathes him in, the same way she’d done so many weeks ago, unaware that it would be her last.

He squeezes her tightly, unwilling and unable to let her go.

She stands on her tip toes, her sweater riding up to reveal a sliver of her stomach rubbing against his shirt, a sensation only she can feel, causing a flutter to fly, in an exhale, the words slipping from her mouth at the shell of his ear.

It’s only as he pulls away a look of awe and disbelief reflecting back at her, a sea of blue threatening to spill over.

Her hands refuse to let go, resting on his shoulders, as she gapes at her admission, his silence washing over her.

His arms dropping to rest on her hips, as her eyes flicker back between his eyes and his lips, waiting for his response, a tell of what he was thinking.

His thumbs slip underneath her sweater, her slim waist lighting up in goosebumps, as his touch elicits an immediate response in her, letting his actions speak for him. Small circles run over her stomach, as a shocked grin appears on his face, his fingers dancing over his future.

A creak of a door, the reality of their situation once again washing over her, and she turns, leaving him with the truth.

_I’m pregnant._

xxxxx

In hindsight, she knew she’d been warned not to tempt fate. The gnawing numbness growing within her, a gaping wound splitting her open and demanding to be felt. It felt like a riddle to feel nothing and everything all at once.

The steady pulse emitting from her bruised face keeping time with the every painful pump, a dull ache of her heart, a quiet flow of guilt traveling through her, as she walks to change.

She’d been nothing short of a hysterical mess, her broken face buried in Wyatt’s neck, as he strapped her in, the hollowness felt by everyone in that Lifeboat.

Staring into the mirror, she sees her dark reflection staring back at her, mocking her choices. She never should’ve been on that mission. The stakes had been too high, and she’d gambled against the house and lost.

Her hand shakily moves to her stomach, flinching at the bruise already forming. The dusty brown of her eyes turns to a storm, destroying everything in its path, clouded and violent, weeping.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” she apologizes, not bothering to quiet her voice, the truth having long since been spilled from her mouth. And so quickly taken from her. “I…I should’ve tried harder to protect you…I’m so sorry,” she cries. Images of a girl with blue eyes and dark hair slip from her fingers, as she crouches down, gripping the sink, knuckles going white.

It’s only later as she rests against the wall, ice pack raised to her face, glued back together, but not even the promise of time enough to bandage her wounds.

Wyatt slides down next to her, the same grief worn by him, shouldered with the guilt of a man who was choosing to blame himself for everything.

He’d done everything he could to protect her, finding her curled in a ball, having been bested, only to pick up her broken body, her tears soaking his shirt, groans of pain wilting her into him.

“This is my fault. All of it,” he chokes out, unable to look at her. And she knows it’s because he thinks she hates him.

“No, it’s not, Wyatt,” she says with all the strength she can muster.

“I was supposed to protect you. Both of you,” a wracking sob escapes him.

“This is not on you,” she reaches out and grabs his hand, another sob escaping him. “Do you hear me? This is not on you,” the words echoing back to her, knowing that while she assured him it wasn’t his fault, she was soaking up the guilt herself, internalizing every last drop of shame.

She moves her head close to his, their tears mixing against one another, her legs tangling with his own, shrouded in their grief, against the same wall in which they’d been so happy just weeks ago.

“I love you, Lucy,” she hears against her hair. “I should’ve told you a long time ago.” His own murmured confession. “I didn’t even…the baby…our baby,” he starts.

“I know, “ she whispers back. Unable to answer back, the noose of sadness too tight, but she could see it, she could certainly feel it. Given time, she could see herself wrapped up in him again in more than just the grief that veiled them. She had long ago decided what she wanted to fight to keep.

Wyatt laughs a bit, rustling Lucy’s face into a grimace.

“Rufus, he umm, he said I’d make a good dad. Guess he was wrong,” a self-deprecating tone escaping before he ducks his head again, resting on her.

“No, you would,” she agrees. “You will,” a spark of hope from the embers surrounding them, but quickly extinguished as she remembers the doctor is on his way, per Christopher’s request. Confirmation to the inevitable.

“I already loved her,” Lucy mutters, barely a whisper against his arm, and he stills at the mention.

“Her,” he repeats, and she nods, the same response she’d had.

A distant rumbling causing them both to look up to see the appearances of a Lifeboat. Slate in color, and far more high tech than the one they were used to.

“What the hell?” Wyatt asks, quickly getting up, as she stares gaping at the machine that landed. Eventually following suit, she trails after the rest of the team, Rufus leading the pack to where Flynn stood in shock.

Wyatt reaches for his gun, at the ready for whatever was about to emerge from inside. Lucy comes up behind him, her hand trailing down his back to get a good look.

As the door slides open, a woman deftly climbs out, covered in sweat and dirt, armed, and looking every bit as dangerous as had been suspected.

Lucy stares up at the woman, younger than she was, but so familiar, it’s almost eery. Wyatt’s eyes track her every movement with the same curiosity, a look of disbelief painted on everyone’s faces.

Glancing across the room, her brown hair moving with her, the woman lands on them, a familiar, crooked grin spreading across her face.

Lucy reaches down for ther gold locket, only to find it missing, having forgotten that she’d given it away.

Wyatt moves to pull Lucy closer, realization slowly spreading across Lucy’s face as she stares into the same striking blue eyes as the man next to her, and a gold locket dangling from her neck.

“Mom.”

_Her._


End file.
